


Avengers/X-Men 30 Chapter OTP Challenge, or Logan Is A Manslut For A Month

by Ingonyama



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Torchwood, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, 30 days challenge, 69 (Sex Position), Abandoned Building sex, Action, Alleyway, Angst, Asgardian Dirty Talk, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Avengers pornography, Birthday Sex, Biting, Bondage, Breathplay, Cable angst, Celebration sex, Companionable Snark, Depression, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Baggage, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Fireworks, For Science!, Frot, Hangover, Improvised Sex Toys, Logan Whump, Logan feels, Logan is a polyamorous manslut, Loneliness, M/M, Marathon Sex, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mjolnir sex, Morning After, Morning Sex, Motorcycle Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Outdoor Sex, Pairings all over the place, Pheromones, Platonic Cuddling, Porn science, Post-Apocalypse, Public Sex, Reunions, Rooftop Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Snarky Tony, Sweat, Tail Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Triggers, Versatile Logan, Voyeurism, WIP, Webbing, Workout Equipment Horribly Misused, dirty talking Remy, dirty talking Steve, dirty talking Thor, erotic art (in fic), foreign object insertion, gratuitous faux-Cajun French, holiday sex, horrible Cajun accents, horrible gratuitous Cyrillic, horrible gratuitous German, mjolnir as a sex toy, semi-public, sex as inspiration, sex in the rain, snarky Logan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingonyama/pseuds/Ingonyama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 chapters of horny Logan being the best there is at what he does...and what he does is men. </p><p>Tags will be added as more pairings appear.</p><p>It was gonna be 30 days, but I am RUBBISH at deadlines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Birthday, Runt

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my crack at getting into writing fanfic again. Mainly going to be X-Men/Marvelverse couples, but some crossovers may ensue. 
> 
> Wish me luck!
> 
> Day 1: Celebration sex  
> 2\. Reunited after a long period of time  
> 3\. Shower sex  
> 4\. Drunken mistake  
> 5\. Experimenting  
> 6\. Caught Masturbating  
> 7\. Involuntary  
> 8\. 69  
> 9\. Hot and rough  
> 10\. Morning sex  
> 11\. Greedy sex  
> 12\. Left unsatisfied  
> 13\. Strangers  
> 14\. Dare  
> 15\. Best friend’s mate  
> 16\. Unexpected mates  
> 17\. Hate sex  
> 18\. Anal  
> 19\. Fantasy/dream  
> 20\. Solitude  
> 21\. Public  
> 22\. Make up/thank you sex  
> 23\. Dominance  
> 24\. Sneaky/quiet  
> 25\. Breaking the rules  
> 36\. Accident  
> 27\. Oral  
> 28\. Long distance  
> 29\. Threesome  
> 30\. Orgy  
> Bonus: ?????

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1: Celebration sex

The bar window broke, exposing the combatants and the establishment's fleeing patrons to the cold night air. Logan barely noticed; one didn't survive in the Canadian wilderness for as long as he had without developing _some_ resistance to the cold.

Unfortunately, his assailant was similarly protected against the elements by experience. Victor Creed stepped over the window, not even sparing a glance for the shards of broken glass that sliced through fur coat and skin. The cuts healed over almost as soon as they formed, and Logan grimaced in disappointment. _One fuckin' infection, maybe a nice shot a'hypothermia. That too much ta ask?_

Sabretooth grinned predatorily, his fang-like canines glistening with saliva. "Make a wish, birthday boy," he snarled, grabbing his crotch lewdly. "Time t'blow out yer candle."

"Any candle you put near my goddamn mouth, ya fuckin' pervert, is gonna be drawn back a bloody stump!" the smaller man spat back. With a _snikt_ and the glitter of metal in the wintry moonlight, he leapt backwards into the darkened alleyways, away from any innocent bystanders who could be caught in the crossfire of their skirmish. fully expecting Sabretooth to follow him, hoping that he didn't decide to grab a bystander and play the hostage game...

 _CLANG_ _!_ The sound echoed in Logan's ears like a church bell _,_ evoking feelings of salvation no religion had ever stirred within him. He watched Sabretooth reel backward, blink dazedly for a few moments, then collapse hard onto the ground as something sailed through the air, having ricocheted off his thick, but decidedly non-adamantium-plated, skull.

Captain America caught his shield with the barest hint of effort, and stepped into the streetlights, looking around anxiously. "Logan?"

Logan stumbled out of the shadows, wiping the blood from the battle off his face as best he could. His healing factor was doing its job, but it was always rougher after a bout with Creed. "Thanks fer the backup, Rogers," he said, managing a smirk. "Think I chipped a nail back there."

If the soldier noticed the sarcasm in his friend's voice, he let it slide. The feral man was swaying, almost as if he were drunk, and in other crcumstances Steve would have believed it. But aside from not smelling the alcohol on his breath, Steve knew there were two days out of the year Logan abstained, one out of respect for someone long gone, and one because he needed as much of an edge as he could get against an annual tradition.

"How'd ya know where ta find me?" Logan finally asked, leaning heavily on Cap's shoulder for support. Steve put an arm around his shoulder and braced the other against his expansive barrel chest, trying to ignore the crinkling of the coarse dark hair, the warmth of the firm muscles underneath.

 _This is the part where you say something, Rogers._ "You...you have a history. Every year, same day. There's a fight between the two of you. I might not be an ace detective or a whiz with numbers like Tony or Richards, but the pattern isn't hard to put together."

  
Wolverine snorted weakly. "So ya figured me out. Congrats."

"Mostly," Steve interjected. "What I don't know is, why today?"

"Now _that_..." Logan began, holding up a hand, but before he could finish his sentence, the X-Man pitched forward, and only Steve's augmented reflexes and strength kept his face from a nasty meeting with the pavement.

 _He's exhausted. Healing factor's taking its toll, and I'd lay odds that he hasn't slept much in the last 24 hours either._ Only one thing to do, the Captain thought. Half-supporting, half-dragging the insensible mutant along with him, he started the long and arduous process of trying to hail a cab in New York City.

~*~

  
Logan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee being brewed, the feel of crisp, freshly-laundered linen sheets. When he opened his eyes, his first thought regarding his location was _swanky hotel room,_ but then he saw a wall full of old, framed World War 2 news clippings and team photos of the Avengers, and despite the unnatural tidiness of the place, he figured out exactly where he was.

 _Rogers' place._ He blinked in confusion as his head cleared. _Wait, Rogers has a place? Captain A-fuckin'-merica, poster boy fer the Avengers, don't shack up at the tower with Stark an' the bunch?_

 _  
_ "It turns out, some investments I made in the 40s panned out while I was in the ice," Steve said as he came in, bringing Logan what looked like breakfast in bed. The smells of sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast seeped into his keen mutant nostrils, and his mutant stomach gave a very loud mutant growl. The Captain chuckled at the sound. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Logan sat up, the sheet falling off his bare chest, and only then realized he was completely naked. "Rogers...did you...?"

Steve shrugged. "Everything you had was a litle...rank. And bloody. And torn. Fortunately, my mother taught me how to do all the basic domestic chores when I was a boy, and Tony gave me a machine last Christmas that practically does all the laundry itself."

Logan didn't have the heart to tell Steve that a washing machine wasn't exactly cutting-edge, but then Steve sat in the chair beside him while he ate, and Logan had ample opportunity to take in the tightness of the man's crisp white undershirt, the bulge of his pectoral muscles beneath, and the shape his matching white boxer-briefs took as they hugged ever curve and plane of his buttocks and bulge. He found himself licking his lips automatically, his dark brown eyes fixated on the sight of Captain America in his underwear.

Steve blushed when he caught where Logan was looking. "You know...Sabretooth attacked you around midnight. It's about 1 in the afternoon now. So by all accounts, it's still your birthday."

Logan was brought back down to earth by that comment and he shrugged. "When you've had as many of 'em as me, ya sorta forget ta give a shit. I don't even know how old I am anymore. Only thing this day means ta me is more hassles from Creed."

"What if..." Steve started, then cleared his throat. "What if it didn't have to be that way?"

Logan looked up and cocked his head. "Whaddaya mean?" His senses were giving him a very clear message as to what the Captain meant. His hormones were soaking the air as if he'd been running a marathon with a hard-on, and his underwear wasn't even tented yet. _Smells like that serum did more than the docs were willin' ta let out._

Steve set Logan's tray aside, and crawled onto the bed with him, pushing the sheets off his nude body. "Amazing..." he murmured. "All those bruises, the cuts and scrapes...they're all gone." He leaned down and kissed the cleft of the hairier man's pectoral muscles, his tongue running along the full length of it.

Logan found himself responding in kind, a hand running through Steve's fine blond hair as he hardened under the handsome Captain's ministrations. "Fuck...I oughta get my ass rescued more often." He hissed a sharp intake of breath through his teeth as Steve's tongue found a nipple, and his meaty fingers hooked around the waistband of Steve's underwear and yanked, hard, exposing the taller man's red, thick cock and low-hanging balls, covered in so fine a coat of hair it almost looked like they'd been shaved.

"So what do you want for your birthday, big guy?" Steve asked with a lopsided grin. Logan pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing their erections together as his sex brain took over.

"I want," he growled, his voice low and intense, "ta see you rub up against me. Ta watch you fuckin' grind yer cock against mine till we both spurt all over ourselves. I wanna memorize every fuckin' detail of yer face when yer cummin', so I can jack off to it for-fuckin'-ever. I wanna kiss ya right when ya cum,swallow yer scream when ya blow yer load all over me." His hips were already starting to move as he spoke, hands clutching Steve's perfectly shaped ass as both men's eyes took on the same deep, primal hunger.

"It'd be an honor, a privilege..." Steve let out a moan of sudden, desperate need. "...and a goddamn _pleasure_."

Logan chuckled. "Well, how 'bout that," he murmured, his balls beginning to churn in their sac, "I got Steve Rogers ta cuss."

"You'll...oh Christ!...get me to do more than that if you keep this up," the soldier panted.

  
"That's the plan, stud."

The two men, one completely naked, the other wearing only the tightest of white T-Shirts, writhed and ground against each other for what felt like an eternity. Steve's shirt became soaked with sweat and precum as Logan ran his hands up and down his back, ass, and thighs, occasionally diving in between the perfect half-mounds to tease the cleft and pucker he found there. Steve kept licking and sucking at Logan's flesh, sometimes along his neck and shoulders, sometimes diving back into his deep, hairy chest. One particularly delectable thrust of the wild man's hips made the Captain bite down hard on his collarbone, leaving bright red marks that, strangely, didn't fade the minute his teeth left them. Rather than pain, the bite elicited a deep moan of ecstatic pleasure from Logan, and a few more perfectly aimed thrusts of the two men against each other made Steve do it again, and again.

It went on forever, both men thrusting and rutting, neither having to hold back. They were caught up in the perfect, intoxicating sensuality of the moment, and in their long-held lust for each other.

Logan was surprised when he felt the buildup in his balls first, the explosion of energy from his hips and belly all the way down his cock that was followed with a gush of his male essence all over Steve's shirt, and the underside of his chiseled chin. The force of his orgasm tore a roaring scream of ecstasy from his throat, which was quickly swallowed by the taller man's mouth as he kissed him frenetically, passionately, holding on to his hairy, compact body for dear life as he bucked his hips wildly, drenched with sweat and gasping for breath, until finally he too let out a wailing moan of completion and spent himself all over Logan's torso, his seed glittering pearlescence in Logan's jet-black body fur.

The two men collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap, chests heaving, faces flushed. As he caught his breath, Logan found himself doing something he thought he'd forgotten how to do for a long time: He was laughing.

"I take it," Steve managed as he raised his head with a grin, "you'll have better reasons to remember this birthday than Creed now?"

Still laughing, Logan looked out the window to where the sun was just starting to sink below the horizon. "It's a start," he managed at last. "We still got a few hours left till midnight. Wanna help me make it more memorable?" To emphasize his point, he spread his legs beneath Steve, and reached down to grasp the base of his swiftly re-hardening cock.

Steve's grin shone with elation and warmth. "Soldier, I thought you'd never ask."

**End Day 1**

**\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
**


	2. Timeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Reunited after a long period of time

Logan wasn't fond of Europe. Too many times he'd been here on 'business,' which in his case meant killing people who needed killing.

  
_An' losin' friends I coulda done without losin'._

  
So when he'd gotten the communique from Britain about an old war buddy, he had been loath to respond. It had taken some serious pushing, from both Charles ("There is, surprisingly, little enough to deal with that we can spare you for a week or two") and Jean ("If a friend of yours is still alive after all this time, don't you owe it to yourself to see them again?"), Logan finally caved in and booked a flight to London International.

  
Once he got there, despite the layout of the city having changed, it didn't take long for him to find his way back to the ruins of the Capitol Cinema. A quick slice of the lock and he was inside. The theater was deserted, predictably, the entire upper tier of seats coated in decades of dust and powdered plaster.

  
 _This is where I first met 'im,_ Logan thought, stroking the armrest between two chairs in the back row. _Sea Wolf playin' on th' big screen, him an' me sittin' side by side..._

  
"My hand was down the front of your trousers," the voice came, taking him by surprise, "before the half-hour mark." Logan spun, claws extending; he wasn't used to being taken by surprise.

  
Captain Jack Harkness took a step back, navy blue officer's coat flowing behind him. Despite the immediate threat, the ex-soldier still managed to flash Logan one of his trademark dazzling grins.

  
"Harkness," Logan said, his claws retracting. His voice, however, lost none of its edge. "Thought you'd died in the Deuce durin' the London bombin'."

  
"I did," Jack replied smoothly, "about eight or nine times that night." He shrugged. "Call me clumsy."

  
"You absolute fuckin' SHIT!" Logan charged forward, grabbing Harkness by the lapels of his magnificent coat. "I fuckin' MOURNED ya, Harkness! We all did! An' this whole time you've been, what? Sluttin' it up across the globe?" He finally looked the handsome man in the eye. "It's been seventy fuckin' years an' you ain't aged a goddamn day."

  
"You're one to talk, furball," the captain replied, smooth and unruffled. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." That grin again, that goddamn grin, and Logan swore he was going to shank the man _right the hell now..._

  
"I'm a mutant, Jackoff," Logan said, shoving the man away. "Healin' factor. Slows down my agin', can't get sick or be poisoned, an' wounds patch themselves up."

  
"I see," Jack said noncommitally. "I was exposed to a fraction of the energy at the heart of time and space itself." His eyes got dreamy for a second. "She was from 2005, the prettiest blonde thing I'd ever seen. Boyfriend wasn't half-bad either, though the ears were kind of a shame. Also the nose."

  
Logan stared at his ex-comrade blankly. "Harkness, what the fuck are ya talkin' about?"

  
"Long story," the other man said, glibly dodging the subject. "Anyway, I can't die anymore...not permanently, anyway...and I age slower. Found my first grey hair ten years ago, still waiting on number 2."

  
"Great," Logan spat, throwing his hands in the air. "That don't explain where the hell ya been all these years."

  
"Serving," Jack responded. "Getting the world ready. Doing my duty to Queen and country while I wait."

  
"Wait fer what?"

  
"My ride," Jack said, dropping heavily into a dust-covered seat and patting the one beside him. "Now come on, the show's about to start."

  
"What sh--?" Logan started to ask, but then a film projector started to whir, and the screen lit up with a black-and-white film reel. Almost independently of his own will, he found himself sinking into the seat beside Jack as the old movie started up.

  
Logan had never seen the film before, and within a few minutes decided he didn't particularly care. He heard the zip of Harkness' fly and the rustle of fabric as he pulled down his pants and let out his cock, and the stockier man had to follow suit. Within moments he felt the soft, large hand on his thigh, running back and forth through the coarse, dark hair it found there, traveling further up, along his groin, to where it grasped his swiftly-hardening cock. His own calloused hand travelled the same path toward Jack's manhood, and he gave a low groan of surprised pleasure when he grasped the thickness of it, greeted in response by Jack's own gasp of lust as his fingers closed around Logan's cock.

  
 _Damn, the bastard's still good at that,_ Logan thought, jerking the Captain's cock harder and faster as he felt a sheen of sweat cover him, his chest heaving as he panted in the dusty air.

  
It had always been this way between them; always dark, secretive, rarely making eye contact, rarely exchanging more than a few words between them. Not because the two men didn't like each other, or felt shame at what they did together, but because some things didn't need to be spoken. There was an easy warmth there, a casual sort of fellowship and camaraderie like Logan hadn't experienced before, and wouldn't experience again until the X-Men.

  
They sat there in silence, pants around their ankles as they jerked each other off while the movie played in front of them, and both men were taken aback by how content they were.

  
Neither of them knew how long it would be until the next time they met, but it didn't really matter. Time didn't exist for moments like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So technically it's late, but I haven't gone to bed yet, so this is still Day 2. Nyah.


	3. Summer Squall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Shower sex

Logan wasn't known for subtlety when it came to sex. When he wanted something, he made it plain. It was this "directness" that had gotten him several optic blasts "directly" in the face from Cyclops over the years. Fortunately, not everyone had the same stick up their ass as Scott Summers.

A certain Prince of Asgard, for example, appreciated the directness and returned it in kind.

But interested as he was, Thor was no cheap date...in fact, he seemed more excited about the idea of going _on_ a date with Logan than actually having sex. And Asgardians had funny notions of what constituted as "a date."

Hence, Logan was out on a vast, muddy plain in one of the Realms, decked out in leather like an Asgardian berserker (or an attendee of San Francisco's Folsom Street Fair), standing bloodied and filthy over the corpse of some snake-monster with _way_ more heads than it ought to have had.

"We done yet?" he shouted to Thor, who was facing down a small horde of armored warriors dogpiling him and laughing as if it were the greatest joke he'd ever been told.

"Very nearly!" the blond man called back, and with a swing of his hammer, half the opposing force found themselves flying across the battlefield in several different directions. The other half held on valiantly, but to no avail, as a golden thunderbolt came crashing down out of a clear blue sky and enveloped Thor and his enemies in its electric fury. When it cleared, Thor stood alone on the grass, covered in ash and soot, but very much unharmed.

"Do you tire so quickly?" Thor asked Logan, as if their conversation had been interrupted by something minor like a mosquito bite, rather than a horde of armored, bloodthirsty marauders. He gave Logan an expression that seemed almost like a hurt puppy, but then his face broke into a grin that made the feral Midgardian shudder.  "Is this not making your heart pound? Your blood sing?" The Thunder-God lifted his hammer, stormy blue eyes fixed on Logan as he caressed the head of the hammer suggestively. "Do not your loins ache in the aftermath of a battle well fought for the fruits of victory?"

The words seemed to wash over Logan like a tidal wave as the truth of them hit him like a punch from Colossus. With the battlefield now deserted except for the corpse of the serpent and the fleeing survivors of the marauding forces, nothing was distracting him from the raw primality of his own nudity, his claws extended, his chest heaving with exhilaration, sweaty and flushed with adrenaline...

"The battle has ended, Logan," Thor said, in a lower voice than his usual boisterous shout, "and we are victorious." The tone, what Logan would call a 'bedroom voice' on any guy who wasn't a god, and the way he _would not fucking quit rubbing Mjolnir_ , sent shivers down the feral's spine.

"We're...kinda fuckin' filthy," Logan said. "I dunno about you, but bein' soaked in blood, soot, an' grime ain't exactly a turn-on fer me. C'n we go back t'yer Dad's an' wash some'a this off before we...y'know...?" To emphasize the point that he was NOT in fact being shy, Logan reached down to his leather loin guard -- Thor had called it a 'fauld', but it still looked like a pair of skimpy leather bikini briefs to Logan -- and groped the growing bulge there.

The Thunder-God let out a shuddering, growling breath. "Nay," he said. "We are in need of ablution, it's true...but I do not think I can wait to get back to the palace before I have you. Luckily," he lifted his hammer with a smirk, "we do not have to."

A second bolt of lightning streaked through the air, and suddenly clouds were forming above the two men. Within moments the field was drenched in a heavy, warm rain, falling like a torrential downpour but somehow nearly tropical in its warmth. Logan let out a blissful moan at the feel of it, like being under a shower on Earth. He almost didn't notice himself removing the ridiculous costume until it hit the ground under him and he stood naked, letting the water soak him and wash away the grime, blood, ash, and soot. He was never one for being self-conscious, but it hadn't occured to him whether or not Thor would be all right with him stripping down like that until he saw the Thunderer, as naked as he was, washing himself off with one hand while stroking a long, thick cock with the other. Seeing Thor masturbate so openly, so carelessly, made Logan achingly hard.

It wasn't long before the Canadian and the Asgardian were both molesting their cocks in front of each other, trembling and panting with lust. Their eyes devoured each other hungrily as they stroked, no barriers of any kind between them, the rain washing away what few inhibitions the two of them had as well as the blood and grime of battle.

"Are we yet clean enough for your tastes, Shield-Brother?" Thor asked, again with that lusty smirk, his hips jutting forward and his cock jutting proudly before him. Logan laughed aloud as he crossed the field and sank to his knees in the mud in front of the Thunderer.

"We are fer now, Goldilocks" he said, breathing in the scent of Thor's crotch, the electric tang of his musk. "But we ain't gonna be fer long."

Then he was silent. It was rude to talk to a god with your mouth full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan/Thor, I ship it so hard. They're just so ELEMENTAL, you know?
> 
> *dodges thrown objects*
> 
> So, the 30 Day Challenge thing...isn't, anymore. Instead I'm going to call this a 30-Chapter Challenge, and just get the stories out when I get 'em out. 
> 
> My first semester of college kicked my ass up and down the curb, but now I have a few weeks of summer, which means a few glorious weeks of freedom before the summer semester does it to me all over again.
> 
> Also, for a visual cue as to Wolverine's outfit, see here:
> 
> http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v293/Ingonyama/DixTDJ2_zps31af756d.jpg


	4. Tony Stark's Hangover Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 - Drunken mistake

"Thanks," Logan said as he took the ibuprofen from a naked Tony Stark. His head throbbed in protest at even this tiny movement. "What the fuck did we drink last night?"

  
"Mead," the inventor replied with a kind of forced cheer. "Asgardian mead. The kind served in the halls of Odin himself, if you believe what He-Man says." Tony gave a chuckle as he dropped back into bed next to Logan, then hissed with a wince. "Damn. Laughing hurts. Don't laugh, Logan."

  
"Fuckin' _everything_ hurts, Stark," Logan retorted. "An' I'm the one with the healin' factor. Is yer Dummy done makin' the coffee yet?"

  
"Nope," Stark replied, reaching down beside his bed and pulling out two black cans with green logos emblazoned on them. "Coffee won't cut it with a hangover like this. So we're going with the college-boy approach, energy drinks and porn." He grinned challengingly at the feral. "Assuming you can still get it up after last night, old man."

  
Logan found himself chucking, and then wincing. He didn't remember much of last night, but what he did involved sex with Tony, and lots of it. Most of his body was still too tired to do more of that, but part of him was standing at attention and saying that yes, his sex drive was stronger than even his hangover.

  
He downed the white pill and the energy drink, grimacing at the taste, then glared at Tony with challenge in his eyes. For his part, Tony whipped the sheet off Logan's naked body and grinned. "How about that. The patient's going to pull through."

  
"Ya don't wanna run some tests t'be sure, Science Guy?" Logan said, his hand going to the base of his shaft and shaking it a little.

  
"Tech Guy," the inventor corrected. "Bruce is Science Guy. JARVIS, replay the rooftop footage from last night, starting around...2200 hours."

  
"Would you be referring to the time Captain Rogers and Master Odinson were..."

  
"Upload to holographic mode and display for Mr. Logan and myself," Tony interrupted.

  
"Thor an' Steve were on th' roof last night?" Logan looked quizzically. "In that godawful weather?"

  
"Where, pray tell," Tony said smugly, "do you think the godawful weather came from? JARVIS, roll the footage."

  
The image that materialized before the two men took Logan's breath away. Steve Rogers was in uniform...mostly. Logan didn't see his pants anywhere on the roof. His hips were jackhammering back and forth as he fucked Thor, who was completely naked except for his red cape and a pair of leather bracers he hadn't bothered to take off. Both men's faces were flush with mead and excitement, dirty talk filling the air, even audible over the sound of the rain.

  
"Aye! AYE! Captain! By Asgard, fuck me!"

  
"Yeah, Thor! Fucking take it! Jesus...you're so tight...so fucking hot!"

  
**"HARDER!"**

  
_Steve Rogers knows how t' cuss?_ Logan thought. Then the rational part of his mind shut itself off when a gust of wind blew a corner of Thor's cape to one side, revealing Mjolnir's thick, leather-bound handle firmly lodged in Steve's ass. _Fuck!_

  
Tony's hand was a blur on his cock, his other arm around Logan's shoulders as he stared intently at the screen. "I think...we may have made...a very serious mistake last night, Logan."

  
"Damn straight," Logan said, squeezing his cock tightly at the base of the balls. It was way too goddamn soon to be shooting his load now.

  
Both men, watching last night's display on the roof, felt the same regret at the same time.

  
"We should have joined in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So THAT was a wait.
> 
> I'm sorry. I DO want to get these out faster. Just, you know. Life. Anyway, more is on its way, I promise. Writing Tony was particularly hard (shut up).
> 
> The inspiration for this came from a picture I commissioned at the height of my Thundershield obsession (fics forthcoming after I've finished this challenge, so sometime in 2020, maybe).
> 
> View it here: http://www.y-gallery.net/view/985341/ 
> 
> It's on Y!Gal, so you're gonna have to log in, but it's free and there's plenty of awesome art to be found there. ktastrofe, who did the picture for me, deserves special mention.


	5. Blue Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Experimenting

Logan looked around the lab, its cold fluorescent lights making the Canadian shiver despite himself. Dozens of half-finished experiments littered the benches, sophisticated machinery and organic samples lending the air a unique, cold scent that made his nose itch with the desire to sneeze.

_No windows, an' only the one door. Feels like a cage._

"Blue, ya gotta get out more."

Hank McCoy trundled by him with a corked beaker of some mysterious blue liquid in his hands. "Many of these experiments are too unstable to be left alone for sustained periods of time," he said, seemingly instinctively. "If I abandoned the laboratory now, any or all of them might destabilize."

Logan's eyes widened, his hackles raised. "Destabilize, like blow up?"

The Beast looked at him for a moment, then laughed aloud. "Stars and garters, no! Logan, what kind of cad would I be if I worked on explosives at a school, I ask you?" He shook his head, then took off his glasses to polish them. "No, I mean 'destabilize', as in fall apart. Become non-viable. I'd have to throw them out and start from scratch."

The feral Canadian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "So what? What's the big deal? Yer always workin' on a dozen things at once anyhow."

Hank rolled his golden eyes at his friend. "Yes, a dozen _new_ things. Making _progress_. I vehemently dislike repeating work I've already done. Take this, for example." He held up the beaker. "For some time now, my own enhanced senses have noticed a rather unique aroma about my person...not an unpleasant one, at least not to myself, but definitely distinctive."

"Yeah," Logan said, "I caught that too. Figured it was just a change in yer scent from when ya mutated yerself." He didn't want to encourage the man. Really, he didn't. Charley'd asked him to come here and get Hank out of the lab, back into the real world.

But still...

"Well," Hank said, "it turns out my newest mutation involves trace amounts of a new pheromone that I secrete from my...well, my follicles." He gestured to his frame, concealed by a labcoat and his uniform trunks, but coated in that familiar blue fur Logan had come to admire. "All of my follicles, as it turns out."

Logan's nostrils twitched as he breathed in that scent, allowing himself to experience it fully, for the first time. He detected the sterility of the lab, the warm muskiness that was Hank's usual aroma, and...just underneath...a kind of electric spice that sizzled over his nostrils. It was like smoke, like electricity...but headier. He found he wanted more, something stirring deep in his balls, but all he said out loud was, "Yeah, I can tell."

The blue-furred behemoth rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, then cleared his throat. "In any case, I decided to attempt to examine and isolate the compound responsible for that pheromone -- just for curiosity's sake, mind you, a purely academic pursuit --"

"An' that's what'cha came up with?" Logan nodded towards the beaker. "Figures it'd be blue." He exhaled through his nose. "Hank, this is why the Prof wants ya outta the lab. What the hell kinda good does that do anyone? It don't sound ta me like findin' the source a'yer new BO is anythin' but busywork."

Instead of being hurt or provoked by the shorter man's casual dismissal, Hank raised his eyes to the heavens. "Oh, cruel fate, that forces upon me the company of the woefully incurious." Then he looked back at Logan with a strange glint in those honey-colored eyes. "You don't think this experiment has any value? You can't see any sort of application of these pheromones that could be useful? None at all?"

Logan folded his arms and gave the Beast a look. "Not unless ya got some way a'changin' my mind."

Hank's broad face curved into a nearly menacing grin. "Oh, how I was hoping you'd say something like that..." And he uncorked the beaker.

At first, Logan wasn't sure what he was doing -- _is he gonna drink it? Pour it on somethin'? Make me drink it?_ But Hank carefully set the open beaker on the table.

Then Logan noticed the scent in the air getting stronger...that electric tang of spice and smoke, lightning and musk, and his hand went involuntarily to the crotch of his jeans. A growl escaped his lips before he had time to stop himself.

"You're uniquely susceptible to this, you see," Hank said -- no, it was more like he was _purring_ the words. His voice seemed to have dropped a couple of octaves even from its usual baritone. "Metahumans with enhanced senses of smell, like yourself, and myself...we're the first ones to experience it."

"I don't feel nothin'," Logan shot back, but then a trickle of sweat got in his eye and he cursed as he rubbed at it. _Shit, when'd it get so hot in here?_

His tank-top chafed as it clung to him. His jeans were too tight. A memory flashed through his mind, of running naked through the woods in summer, free, careless, horny... _so fucking horny_..."The hell's goin' on?"

Hank shrugged out of his labcoat. Logan had never found the movements more erotic. "We are both experiencing the effects," he purred, in a deep, husky voice, "of my pheromones in concentrate." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "In their normal rate of production, mixed with the other natural secretions of my body, they simply produce a not-altogether-unpleasant aroma. But in concentrate, isolated and produced en masse..." He groped the bulge in his shorts as he continued, sweat glittering and darkening the blue of his fur.

His dark, indigo nipples were erect. Logan realized he'd never noticed them before. They were so plump...they stood out on his muscular pecs in a way that made him think they should have been obvious all along...

Next thing he knew, his mouth was attached to one, licking and sucking the dark nub of flesh with a growl of desire. Hank chuckled. "It's not just your enhanced senses that make you susceptible to the pheromones," he said, a big paw running through Logan's hair. "It's also your uniquely lascivious nature...your proclivities..."

"Shut up, Hank," Logan growled around the nipple in his teeth, "an' get fuckin' naked."

The Beast laughed and complied...for a few hours anyway.

~*~

Logan came to in his room. The sheets were a rumpled mess around his feet, his ass ached, and his balls throbbed as though they'd been shooting for a week straight. He rolled over with a groan, and came face-to-face with a pair of huge, furry pecs.

"Good evening, my narcoleptic nymphomaniac," Hank rumbled, as his big, BIG arms went around the shorter man. "It's nearly 10:00."

"Blue? What..." Flashes of the last few hours came to him:

_Sucking and biting at Hank's nipples while they stripped out of their clothes,_

_Shredding his clothes with his claws so he could masturbate with the Beast,_

_Being naked on his knees in front of a huge blue-black cock, knowing he'd probably dislocate his jaw but not caring in the slightest,_

_In Hank's arms, still naked, as the naked Beast leapt through the mansion like a hyperactive, horny gorilla,_

_Screaming Hank's name as he was plowed into his bed, over and over again,_

_Cumming, harder and longer than he ever had, and still needing more..._

"And at the center of that maelstrom of prurient memories which are no doubt returning to you," Hank said, as if he'd borrowed Chuck's power to read minds, "is this." He gestured to the beaker of blue fluid, now sitting on Logan's bedside table, about a quarter empty, but tightly corked again.

Logan breathed the air deeply, and realized he couldn't smell anything more than Hank's own usual scent, as he smelled after a good Danger Room workout. It still made his tired, abused balls tingle, but he didn't feel the same frantic need as before. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Blue..."

Abruptly, Hank's face turned guilty. "I know...I feel I must apologize. While the activities themselves were highly enjoyable... _immensely_ enjoyable...the means I used to initiate them were abhorrent. I'm sorry...I simply wanted to prove my point, I didn't think your response would be that strong...and then I was under the influence myself, and lost my desire for restraint, and..."

Logan put a finger over his friend's mouth. Then he kissed him, hard and long.

Hank broke the kiss with a perplexed expression. "But....I don't..."

"I been wantin' ta do that fer _months_ ," the Canadian replied with a grin. "The junk in that bottle just made me less shy about goin' fer it."

Hank blinked. "You've been wanting to...with _me_?..."

"Can't be that surprisin'," Logan shrugged. "Ain't it you who said I responded so strong ta yer blue sex potion 'cause I'm such a slut ta begin with?"

"Well, those weren't my _exact_ words, but..."

"I like sex," Logan said. "A _lot_. Especially sex with guys. Especially sex with people I like." He nodded to the beaker on the nightstand. "That stuff just gave me a kickstart, an' I didn't need much a'one ta begin with."

Hank blushed, and a smile crept over his face. "You really wanted...me?"

"Leave the cork in that damn beaker, an' I'll prove it."

"I understand," Hank nodded. "I promise, I'll never abuse it like that again."

Logan gave him a smoldering look. "I said ya gotta leave the cork in fer _now_ , genius," he said. "That don't mean forever. You were right, sometimes the stuff ya come up with down there ain't half bad."

"And you were right," Hank admitted. "Sometimes I get so wrapped up in scientific research for its own sake that I forget there's a world up here to interact with and live in."

"Great, we both had points. Now that that's settled, Doc..." Logan pressed up against Hank, his balls hurting far less than when he woke up.

Neither of them left Logan's room that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, another new chapter.
> 
> So I'm not sure if pheromones/sex-pollen/horny-making potions count as non-con or dub-con, so I wanted to make it clear that Logan was doing this of his own free will...he was just pushed a little bit by The Blue Stuff. With my Logan, a little push is pretty much all it takes.
> 
> I know I've been vague about the actual descriptions of sex these last few chapters -- well, since Chapter 2, actually -- but I like leaving those details up to the reader's imagination sometimes. Also I can be a lazy sumbitch sometimes. Next chapter, though, should get a LOT more explicit.
> 
> Thanks everyone who's left kudos and comments! I'm not done with this story yet, I promise!


	6. What Happens In Madripoor...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Caught masturbating

The Madripoor night was muggy and thick. For someone like Logan, who'd spent more time than not in the cold northern forests of Canada or the temperate woodlands of upstate New York, it was like being stuck in the world's biggest sauna. Sweat was constantly glistening in his jet-black body hair, stinging his eyes (or rather, his eye, since in public he wore the signature disguise that had earned him the moniker of "Patch" in this part of the world), and he'd pretty much abandoned any pretense at sheets or clothes in bed. When the heat of the city rose up to mix with the steamy humidity of the island air, even boxer shorts felt like too much clothing.

  
After his fourth cold shower that evening, the water steaming off him in the heat, Logan finally gave up on sleep. In the bed next to his, Gambit was fast asleep, wearing his fancy black silk pajamas and snoring gently. The thief from New Orleans was used to this sweltering heat, this swampy, heavy air. Logan resisted the urge to growl as he flopped back onto his bed, stark naked, and looked at the clock.

  
3 AM. Even Madripoor's wildest clubs and sleaziest bars were closed down by now, which was why Remy was asleep instead of doing the town and everyone in it. Logan's enhanced hearing could catch some of the city's noises -- the odd drunk singing in some Asian or Pacific Island language, fists on fists as someone decided a drunken brawl would be a perfect nightcap, the wailing of a distant police siren -- but for the most part, the nightlife in Madripoor was pretty well capped off. Going out at this point, all Wolverine could do would be to wander the city, seeing the sights, and making himself an easy target for would-be agents of some two dozen or so sleazy organizations who wanted him dead, captured, and/or brainwashed.

  
Which left him pretty much stuck in the hotel room until sunrise, and bored out of his mind.

  
_At least back home I coulda snuck down ta the Danger Room, gotten a decent workout, or ran one a' LeBeau's hacked porn programs._

  
The thought of those stirred his loins. Though Gambit wasn't the first X-Man who came to mind when it came to technical expertise, he'd gotten familiar enough with the Danger Room's Shi'Ar technology to create dozens of simulations that had absolutely nothing to do with training...and everything to do with fucking.

Girl on girl, girl on guy, guy on guy, with hundreds of possible scenarios, probably thousands of potential partners. Celebrities. Other superheroes. Even his fellow X-Men -- there was one particularly kinky one featuring Jean in her Black Queen getup and a boytoy'd up version of Slim Summers.

  
Logan allowed himself a quiet chuckle at the memory, even as he felt a stirring in his loins. He'd thought it was too hot to jerk off, but suddenly, there were parts of his anatomy that disagreed strongly with his assessment.

  
Reaching down to fondle his swelling, furry balls, Logan's eyes slid closed and a long, slow exhalation escaped through his nostrils. He let his mind drift over memories  and fantasies, stretching out on the bed, just quietly enjoying his nudity and freedom. As long as he heard Remy's slow, rhythmic breathing on the bed next to him, the short Canadian knew he was good to go.

  
He looked back at the sleeping Cajun, noticing the way the silk of his PJs had gotten wet with sweat and stuck to parts of his body. The globes of Remy's ass were perfectly framed by the fabrid now, outlined as clearly as they were when he was in costume, and Logan licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to bury his face, or his cock, in that musky, dark wetness.

  
His hand traveled from his balls up to his shaft and gripped it tight. He wasn't stroking, not yet, just squeezing, letting himself get harder and harder as his mind delved into more and more perverted fantasies. He pictured Remy sliding out of that black silk, imagined the way it would slide down his shoulders and arms like a waterfall of chocolate. That cocky, devilish smirk, the hungry glow in those red eyes as he teased and taunted Logan with the promise of more. The stocky feral couldn't help but let out a groan as the image flashed before him of Remy dropping his silk pajama trousers, exposing those lean, muscular legs and that perfect ass to Logan.

  
_Cajun,_ Logan thought, _those gams could make a leg man outta anyone._

  
He wondered how Remy liked it in bed. He wondered why he didn't already know. Was he tender? Did he like to take the Harlequin approach, all sensual kisses and passionate embraces, taking his time? Or was he more like Logan himself; wild, unhinged, rutting with his partner to take the edge off until they both came, screaming, then doing it again, slower, after the first hunger had been sated?

  
Both approaches had their appeal to Logan...either way, the idea of the Cajun drenched in sweat and come, moaning in that low, sensual voice of his, made him shudder as he finally started to jerk off in earnest, his fist sliding up and down the shaft of his cock as he watched precome start to leak out, leaving a dark, thick trail down the flared head.

  
He didn't notice that the steady, rhythmic breathing in the bed next to him had stopped until those glowing red-on-black eyes opened and stared directly at him. Logan froze in his tracks, feeling like a teenager caught by his dad and wondering why he felt that way.

  
"Shit! Thought I'd been quiet." The words escaped his lips almost unconsciously, out before he had time to take them back, and he felt his face flush red. Why the hell was he embarrassed? Everyone did it, whether they copped to it or not.

  
"Y'were," Remy said smoothly, casually, as if they were discussing Logan's performance in the Danger Room instead of how loudly he beat his meat. "But y'forgot. Remy an empath, me. I c'n feel lust from half a block away. You ain' even t'ree feet from me, _Cerval_." The Canadian grumbled some curses, and Remy sat up -- or rather, he seemed to writhe up, pushing first his ass, then the rest of him, into position like he was a snake, or a stripper.

  
"What'chu so mad for, homme? Remy didn' say y'had t'stop."  There was that smile, languid, sensual, and Logan couldn't take his hand off his cock now if he'd tried. "Mebbe it make you feel better if Remy...join you?"

  
And as the feral watched, spellbound, Remy shrugged off his shirt, just like he'd pictured in his fantasy, the black garment cascading off his body, fluttering to the mattress in a pool of silk. He pushed up his slim, toned hips, and with one artful, fluid stroke, whipped off the pajama pants and tossed them aside. They billowed in the air like a parachute for a second, then drifted to the ground, unnoticed, as Remy lay in his bed opposite Logan, nude, in all his glory, looking for all the world like he was posing for a photo shoot.

  
Logan didn't even notice he'd started jerking off again until Remy licked his lips, one long-fingered hand sliding between his legs, following his copper-colored treasure trail down to his own long, slim cock. "Like th' way y'lookin' at me, _cher_ ," he said, in a tone like pouring honey. "Wanted t'see dat look on y'face f'r a long while now, me."

  
"Ya have, huh?" Some of Logan's old instincts came to the forefront, and he grinned, finally finding his voice. "What else have ya wanted ta see me do, Gumbo?" And he sat up on the edge of the bed, spreading his hairy thighs so Remy could drink in the sight of his fist gliding up and down his thick shaft, the way his balls bounced when he pounded them on the downstroke, the glistening sweat shining in the moonlight all over his compact, muscular body.

  
"Exactly what you doin' right now, _cher_ ," came the smooth-as-butter response. "Remy like it when he sees y'jerk off. I been collectin' de footage of you in th' Danger Room, beaux...de fun y'have with Remy's programs. We could start a porn comp'ny wit' dat, make us a fortune, all 'cause o'you."

  
The thought should have offended Logan. He liked his privacy, hated being spied on. But in his current state, the idea of being filmed having filthy-ass sex with all of Gambit's simulated partners, with Remy himself, just made the Canadian pant harder, growl aloud, grip his cock tighter. "Yeah... **fuck** yeah...who knew I'd get so hot 'n bothered by the idea o'bein' watched?"

  
Remy smirked. "I like watchin' you, Logan," he replied, and it was evident...despite the smoothness of his speech, Remy's hand was flying on his cock, his hips pumping back and forth sinuously, fucking his fist. "An' I like you watchin' me. More den anyt'ing, Remy wants t'see y'cum...t'watch y'shoot your load all over dat hot, furry body...y'so beautiful like dis, _homme_...don' be shy, let it out...let y'self go..."

  
That did it. The churning in his balls rose to a surge, uncontrollable, irresistible, and Logan thrust his hips wildly as he threw back his head and **roared** , climax slamming into him with the force of a tidal wave. He felt the hot wetness of his come land on his chest, on his furry abdomen, soaking his fist, and it just wouldn't stop flowing -- he felt like he hadn't touched himself in days, so powerful was the orgasm, so swept away was he in the wash of lust and fulfillment that pounded through his entire body, making him shudder, convulse, and growl out loud as shot after shot of his come coated his fist, his body, the floor.

  
Somewhere in that frenzied haze, he heard a breathy, drawn-out moan, and he knew Remy was coming too. He forced his eyes open, and the sight of that lithe gymnast's body, sprawled out and surging with the same primal, carnal force that gripped him, triggered a fresh wave of ecstasy throughout his entire being.  
Finally, after what felt like minutes of pure pleasure, both men slumped back against their respective beds, panting, chests heaving, and stared incredulously at each other, completely in awe of the moment that had just passed between them.

  
_Damn...godDAMN...an' I was actually **scared** a'bein' caught by Rems?_

  
It was Logan who started laughing first, but Remy joined in fairly soon thereafter. They grinned at each other, shaking their heads in wonder, and Remy crossed over to Logan's bed, straddling him, both of them still naked, still a mess. The Canadian opened his mouth to protest, but Remy lifted a cum-soaked finger to his lips, and the spicy-sweet taste of the Cajun made him forget what he was going to say.

  
Neither of them bothered trying to get back to sleep that night. Luckily, the heat didn't bother Logan nearly as much now.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally get around to having my own spin on THE most popular slash pairing of the entire X-Men franchise (well, this side of First Class Verse Charles and Erik, anyway).
> 
> I've always seen potential in Logan and Gambit together, but most of what I've seen of them has been pretty bog-standard stuff. Antarctica is usually involved, Remy is always the wounded bottom-boy puppy dog needing a firm masterful hand, there's ALWAYS some sort of vendetta against Rogue...the list of common tropes goes on. And 20+ years of that gets old, guys.
> 
> So this is MY Logan and Remy, based on how I think their relationship would go.
> 
> A special shout-out goes to my old friend TheMadSlasher for helping me cultivate this version of Remy.


	7. Reflex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Involuntary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: When I set out to write this one, I had no idea how angsty it would get. Sorry in advance. Happy belated Holidays! -_-;

Logan didn't think much of it at first.

Waking up naked in the woods, his hard-on in his hand, stroking out a load and covered in sweat, that was what he called a decent Wednesday morning. (A _good_ Wednesday morning was waking up with someone else's hard-on in his hand.)

He liked remembering how he got that way, though. And this time, he couldn't.

At first, he shrugged it off as just stress and beer. He did this a lot, ran into the woods to jerk off and get some privacy away from the crowd at the Institute. They knew to leave him alone when he was out here, except for the more adventurous ones on the team who sometimes tailed after. They usually ended up spending the night naked out here with him.

But this morning he was alone, just him waking up, and the sound of nature going to sleep as fall set in. As the morning chill set in, a shiver ran through his body, and he let go of his cock and started to look for his clothes. Had he been wearing clothes last night?

_I remember Christmas dinner -- Slim an' Red were havin' Cable over -- then the news, 'Muties A Threat Again', that kinda bullshit -- then gettin' in the shower t'clear my head, an' then..._

He didn't remember drinking, which in itself was odd. Even though Cable could easily drink anyone under the table -- except Logan himself, and maybe Captain America or Thor -- the Power Couple had insisted that only wine be served with dinner. Logan had groused, but a stern look fron Ororo had put the fear of the Goddess into him, and Jean's 'please, Logan? For me?' hit him right where he couldn't say no.

_So, I was mostly sober...explains why I ain't hung-over._

He made his way to his cabin on the Institute grounds -- a place he'd built himself, after it was clear that a) he wasn't leaving Westchester County on a permanent basis any time soon, and b) there was no way a man with enhanced senses and feral instincts could constantly be around that many other strong-willed, powerful, noisy people and not lose his mind, even in a house the size of Xavier's place. Every now and again, he liked to have company there -- sometimes an X-Man, sometimes a fresh face from Salem Center, he'd even gotten a few Avengers to come by and check out the ambience. A broad grin split his face as he remembered the night -- well, _nights_ \-- well, _week_ \-- he and Hercules had spent on his wolfskin rug by the fire. Pushing the door open, he half-expected to see the Greek demigod spread out naked on that rug, like he always was as soon as he got into the door.

Instead, he found a surprise. Nathan Christopher Charles Summers, shrugging his way into a flannel shirt Logan might have picked out for him, if Logan ever shopped without having a psychic knife held to his head.

"Summers?"

The bigger man jumped at his name, his techno-organic shoulder half-in and half-out of the shirt, and turned. Normally his face was inscrutable, but Logan smelled guilt on the man.

Guilt, and sex. Lots of it. In fact, the shirt was the only thing he was wearing. Moreover, Cable's "psychic eye" was glowing a bright, blazing yellow, something it only did when he was either using his powers or trying to hold something back. And since the techno-organic virus had been purged from his system a year ago...

"Yeah," Cable said, looking away and buttoning the shirt. He still didn't have any pants.

Logan let out a breath through his nose. "So, last night...the reason I don't remember nothin'..."

"Habit," Nathan said simply, without the slightest hint of apology in his voice. "It started i my time, after Jenskot -- Aliya, my wife -- died. I got lonely, started sleeping around, just trying to fill the void. In my time, it didn't matter -- girls, guys, we were all family under the rebellion against Apocalypse. But then would come the morning after, and after a few times, I just figured it'd be better for everyone if they didn't remember." He tapped his temple. "Short-term memory suppression ain't that hard, at least for a few days. By the time they remembered me again, they'd just have the memories they should -- a hot one night stand that didn't go anywhere, something they could get off to in their heads later."

Logan folded his arms and glowered. "You _messed_ with their heads. Just like ya messed with mine."

Cable flushed. _Now_ there was guilt on his face, in his scent. He grabbed his pants from under the bed and tugged them on. "After a while, it just became like a reflex. It was for the best, I couldn't afford any complications..."

The feral threw up his hands. "You fuckin' Jackass! Have ya fuckin' _met_ me?! It didn't have ta be 'complicated'! I like sex; hell, I fuckin' _love_ it! There ain't gotta be more to it than that! I even thought you were kinda hot, in a grizzled vet sorta way. If ya wanted a fuckbuddy, no-strings, all ya had ta do was fuckin' _ask_!"

He was pacing now, his hands stiff at his sides. It was either that, or pop his claws and lunge at the guy.

Nathan let out a defeated-sounding sigh as he finished lacing up his boots. Getting back to his feet, he looking old, older than Logan had ever seen him. Way older than Scott, and the dude was his _father_. "That was just how it got started, Logan. After I came back to this time, I thought I could stop. With Domino, it never happened, not even once. She remembered, and she was cool with it, every time." Now fully dressed, looked back at the shorter man, and this time there was sorrow in his face. "I don't know why it happened with you, Logan. I really don't. I didn't do it on purpose. Like you, I just wanted to have a good time, no strings. Now I've fucked it up."

"Yeah," Logan said. "Yeah, ya have." He stalked in and grabbed a fresh set of clothes from his closet. "I'm gonna take a shower. Be gone by the time I get back. Go talk ta Charley, or yer stepma, or someone who can actually help. And don't come back 'til you have."

"Logan...I'm sorry." Nathan looked at his shoes. "From here on out, if it ain't a mission...you'll never have to see me again." He started for the door.

 _Jackass,_ Logan thought, and Cable flinched. "I didn't say that, Summers."

The words took Nathan by surprise, and the bigger man turned back, confused. "Yer just like yer ol' man, ya know that?" Logan snorted. "Whenever ya piss someone off, ya think, 'ohh, this is it, they don't want nothin' ta do with me anymore', an' ya try ta write yerself outta their lives. But you _can't_ write the people ya piss off outta yer life, 'cause like it or not, we're both X-Men. Me by choice, you by blood. An' X-Men...we're family. The good parts, an' the bad."

Now Logan did turn around, and looked Cable in the eye. "I said, don't come back 'til you've learned how not t'fuck with my head after we've fucked." He glowered. "I don't like folks muckin' around with my brain. Had it happen too much in the past." He raised his fist and popped his claws, letting them gleam in the early-morning light.

Cable nodded -- and Logan thought he saw him swallow. _Ain't me he's scared of, the guy never backed down from a fight in his life. No, he's afraid of what happened ta me. He don't like the idea of havin' his mind fucked with, prob'ly cause he knows what it did ta me._

"But after yer done," Logan went on, and the claws retracted, his glower turning into a dangerous smirk, "an' ya wanna come back an' celebrate? I toldja, yer hot, an' I'd fuckin' love ta bang you on the regular, no strings attached." He reached down and groped himself visibly, very conscious of the fact that he was still completely naked and perfectly happy to exploit that fact. "I just wanna remember it in th' morning. Now get outta here an' go get fixed up, Tin Man."

As Logan turned and made his way to the bathroom, he felt Cable in his head one more time. _Logan..._

There weren't any more words, but there was a warm glow of gratitude...and a sizzling undercurrent of something that the Canadian thought might have been anticipation. He hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again, sorry for the angst and lack of explicit content. It's hard to do anything with a prompt like 'Involuntary' in a way Logan would get off to, at least as I see him. He's very much about self-determination and free will, and anything that threatens that would turn off the little brain between his legs and turn on the six little brains in his knuckles.
> 
> I did try to give this one a more hopeful ending, and I might have him and Nathan reconnect somewhere down the prompts list. You guys tell me what you think in the comments. :)


	8. Alley Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this back around New Year's but forgot to post it.
> 
> At the time, my note to self: was "New Year's Resolution: Write more." 
> 
> (If you listen really hard, you can already hear my brain rolling its eyes and saying 'that's likely').
> 
> Still, this finally went up and I didn't wuss out halfway through writing it, so I say, PROGRESS. Enjoy!

It had been a peaceful ball drop. No shootings, no bombs, no world-eatng menaces or cackling supervillains. Logan wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or sorry about that.

What he did feel was irritation as he brushed snow and confetti out of his hair... _that shit gets fuckin' everywhere, prob'ly gonna still be pullin' it outta my asscrack in June_...and frustration as he tried to ignore the massive assault on his senses. The scents alone were almost too much to put up with; alcohol, hormones, perfumes and colognes, sweat, gun oil, the combined fear, joy, anticipation, and excitement of over a million people packed together in a tight space produced a whole rainbow of stenches he wasn't accustomed to in such large numbers. To say nothing of the _noise..._

_Chuck wouldn't have sent a telepath in here 'cause he'd be worried they'd 'get overwhelmed by the psychic impressions a'the crowd' or some shit. But the guy with super-senses? Sure, go ahead, burn off all your noise-hairs an' go fuckin' deaf from a million people screamin'. Prof, you an' me are gonna have some serious words when I get back, an' I don't care if ya can hear me now or not._

He ducked into an alleyway, a shortcut to where he'd parked his bike. It was 3 AM, and the snow swirled through streets that were finally deserted and strewn with leftovers; party hats, broken beer bottles, and more confetti than Logan even knew existed. Most importantly, it was _quiet._ The silence acted like a balm to Logan's battered senses, letting him collect himself and his thoughts, and he leaned against the side of a brownstone and let himself recover for a moment.

Like the strike of a snake, something snagged around Logan's wrists, his ankles, and his back, hoisting him up about thirty feet into the air, spread-eagle. His claws popped out uselessly, as his arms were splayed out and stuck on either side. He frantically looked around for his unnoticed assailant, but all he heard was laughter.

"Wow, Fuzzy, you didn't see that coming? I thought you woulda caught my scent a mile away!"

_That fuckin' voice..._ Logan growled under his breath as he noticed that what he was secured in was synthetic webbing. The kind only created by one person:

"Well, better late than never I guess."

Spider-Man descended from a balcony a few stories up, hanging upside down on his webline, and even though Logan couldn't see his face under the mask, he knew full well that Peter Parker was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin he'd ever worn in his life.

"Parker," he growled. "The fuck kinda game are you playin'? Why ain't you at home, givin' that redhead a'yers the New Year's fuck of her life?"

The younger man shrugged. "MJ's in Miami, touring with a show. Can't remember if it's _Wicked_ or _Into the Woods_ this year. All I know is she left behind a lonely, horny spider, and wherever she is, it doesn't have Wi-Fi. And I heard it from a friend of a friend of a Star-Spangled friend that you're the one to go to when a lonely Avenger wants some relief."

Rogers didn't seem like the type to kiss and tell. Logan would have to bring this up with him later. "Ya gotta weird way of winin' an' dinin' a guy, Webhead." He looked meaningfully at his webbed restraints, and then back at Spider-Man.

"I tried to be more subtle," Peter shrugged, "but Senpai didn't notice me."

"Ya tried ta get my attention in a crowd of a million fuckin' people?" Logan gave him a flat look. "Also, don't do that around someone who's actually fuckin' lived in Japan, ya sound like an idiot."

Parker didn't say anything, but Logan could see the grin through his mask. Or he thought he could. "So whaddaya say? Help a web-slinger out?" He reached out with a gloved hand and caressed the Canadian's scruffy face, which made him raise an eyebrow.

"Do I got a choice?" he grumbled.

Peter sighed and withdrew his hand. "OK, I get it. I asked all wrong." He looked down...well, up, from Logan's perspective. "Sorry. I'll get you down and you can go."

He reached out again, to Logan's wrist this time. "Hang on a sec," Logan called.

Spidey stopped, looking at the feral in some confusion. "I didn't say no," he said with a smirk.

"Huh?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Ya went ta all this trouble, an' yer just gonna give up?" He grinned. "Ya don't know it, but you been bulgin' out yer Spider-suit the whole time we been talkin'. An' it ain't like I never been in this situation before..."

Peter looked down again, and Logan knew he was blushing under the mask. "But...I thought..."

"Ya wanna fuck around, ya just gotta _ask_ me like a regular person." Logan grinned. "I ain't one ta turn down a good lay from a hot guy, long as I get a say in th' matter." He indicated the bulge that was forming in his jeans with a roll of his hips and a luck of his lips. "I like it when folks find me hot enough ta go for. An' I can smell yer hormones, kid. Yer hot fer me. So drop the goddamn guilt, getcher mask an' tights off, an' get over here so we can ring in the fuckin' New Year right."

"And people call _my_ jokes bad," Peter muttered, but he descended on his webline anyway, until he was eye-level with Logan...and then further down, until he was eye-level with Logan's crotch, and Logan was eye-level with his.

"Nice," the feral said, nuzzling the bulge. "No undies under the suit, huh?"

"Usually I do," Spidey responded, "but tonight wasn't a regular patrol. I was going for..."

"Easy access," Logan finished for him. " _Real_ nice." And with a broad grin, he grabbed the suit's pants with his teeth and jerked upwards. With a ripping sound, the fabric tore off of Peter's cock, a long flap of it fluttering to the white-dusted ground, and despite the upside-down angle, Peter's rod jutted straight out. Logan nuzzled the head of Peter's cock, letting it trail through his stubble as Peter let out a groan. "Wow...that feels amazing...do you condition that or something?"

"Gotta keep some secrets," Logan retorted. "Now...my jeans're gettin' real tight, my hands're tied, an' I can feel ya starin'...so go on. Get it out an' take a good look, Webs."

He felt Peter's hands, shaking slightly and not from the cold, unbutton the fly of his jeans and fish out his own cock and balls. " _Whoa,_ " he heard from below him, a sound of awe and appreciation, and he chuckled. "Thanks."

Neither of them could talk much after that, but their muffled groans were more than eloquent enough. Pete's taste was fresh, almost metallic; Logan appreciated that the kid went to a lot of trouble to keep himself clean. But it was strong, and salty too; a night of web-slinging, even a quiet one, worked up a heck of a sweat. Logan's enhanced senses drank in the smell and taste of exertion, letting it permeate him as he growled around his mouthful.

Peter, his mask pulled halfway up off his nose and mouth, didn't need enhanced senses; even though Logan bathed as regularly as anyone, his forest of body hair and the fact that he hated abrasive soaps and perfumed shampoos gave his body a woodsy, natural scent. _The man your man should smell like,_ Peter thought, partly in amusement, partly in lust.  _And taste like,_ he thought as he finally started to fellate Logan's mushroom head and thick shaft. _Holy shit, I could get addicted to this._

Then a particularly intense swipe of Logan's tongue along his frenulum forced any extraneous thoughts out of him, along with a groan of ecstasy and a jet of precum.

He ended up clamping his thighs around Logan's head while the feral sucked. As strong as he was, he'd only normally do this if he werre trying to squeeze a punk into unconsciousness, but adamantium skulls are amazing things, and all it really did was make Logan growl and go even crazier on his dick. For his part, Peter got the wild mutant's cock most of the way down his throat, and as soon as he could kiss his balls, he heard the SNIKT as his claws came out, shredding some of the webbing he'd trapped him in. Not enough to drop him, but Peter knew Logan was close.

Though his own thoughts were fading quickly into a fog of wet bliss, Peter knew he'd better finish this off right. He deep-throated Logan -- which was easier than he thought it'd be given his position -- and got to work with his tongue and throat, pumping the entirety of the feral's shaft, milking him for all he was worth. He was sweating like crazy under his costume, panting through his nose in lust. Logan's smell was aphrodisiac, like horny crack for him, and he tasted so fucking good...Peter could probably have shot his load even if the wild man weren't giving him the blowjob of his life in exchange for his own.

Much to his surprise, Logan shot first, tensing up around him, growling against him, and firing jets of thick, pungent mutant spunk down his throat. Peter gagged for a minute, and pulled back -- but just enough so that his lips trapped the head of Logan's throbbing, pulsing cock, letting the seed splash over his tongue. He wanted to drink it, wanted to taste it, fucking loved it, couldn't get enough --

\-- And drinking down that fucking amazing brew Logan's nuts were churning out made him shoot his own load into the feral's vibrating throat.

Everything went white for a minute...

~*~

"...ebs? Kid? You good?"

"Unnhhh...five more minutes, Uncle Henry...I feel funny inside..."

Peter felt a rough, callused hand pat his cheek roughly, and heard a gruff chuckle. "Yer gonna be okay." He opened his eyes and saw Logan, crouching beside him on the ground. His pants were still undone, but all the webbing had been shredded off his wrists and ankles, and Spider-Man blinked in confusion. "Wait...weren't you a wall decoration a minute ago?"

"Oh, right," Logan said, pulling a cigar out of his back pocket. "Ya blacked out, let go a'yer web line. I had ta rip outta the webs ta catch ya so that the bang ya felt wasn't the same one ya went out with. No sense gettin' yerself killed while ya getcher rocks off." He smirked as he lit the stogie, puffing contentedly, then he bent down and kissed Peter's still-exposed mouth, flooding him with the same smoke. Peter would have cried out in protest, but there was something damn sensual about this...His cock started to rise again, and he realized something.

"Fuck...mmmmnhh...nice as that was, I'm not gonna be able to go home like this. Little Spidey and the Parker Twins are flapping in the breeze, and it's...brr...a little chilly for them."

"Hah!" Wolvering barked a laugh, and stood up. "That's the trouble with livin' this far south, Webs. No tolerance fer th' cold. Still...it is New Year's an' all..." he looked down at the supine Spider for a moment, then grinned and hauled him to his feet.

"C'mon," he said, crossing over to his bike. "I'll give ya a ride to th' school, we'll getcha some new threads." When he reached the Harley, he straddled it, then tugged his jeans down over his round, beefy, hairy ass with a grunt. Cocking his hips, he looked back over his shoulder with a smoldering smirk that made Peter stand fully at attention.  "I'll even keep ya warm on the way."

"Wow..." Peter breathed, then practically leapt to follow. "With an offer like that..." He heard Logan growl in pleasure as he positioned himself between the feral's amazing asscheeks.

The ride to Westchester was warmer than Peter had ever expected it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, some notes about the "Logan Is A Manslut" universe:
> 
> 1) The 'Schism' never happened. The X-Men's "West Coast" team was founded by Cyclops for completely different reasons. I'd like to say "non-stupid reasons", but I don't know if that's the case yet because I haven't written out all the details.
> 
> 2) No Decimation, so no AvX.
> 
> 3) Charles Xavier and Jean Grey aren't dead.
> 
> 4) Logan is still on ALL OF THE TEAMS. He just schedules his time better; also he's a reserve Avenger, not a mainstay.
> 
> 5) One More Day never happened; Peter and Mary-Jane are still very happily (if non-monogamously) married.
> 
> I'll get more into the ramifications of these later. Just let the fanfic writer indulge his ~~childish~~ wish-fulfillment. ^_^


	9. With A Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9 - Hot and rough

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

 

The sweltering, cloudless night was shattered by the explosion of fireworks, both officially-sanctioned displays and the odd revellers who'd snuck their own.

All that mattered to Logan was that they lit up Steve Rogers' naked body in the most delicious way, the Captain's sweaty, bare flesh shining on the roof of Avengers Tower as he was sandwiched between him and Thor.

Rogers was on his back, legs spread wide as Thor pounded into him from underneath, the Asgardian's muscular arms clutching the super-soldier tight as his hips churned, balls slamming into Steve's ass again and again as his cock pistoned inside him. Logan was sharing the ride, grinding his hips atop the Captain, his thick shaft pile-driving into Steve right alongside Thor's, the two of them fucking him together, as per his insistence. They were drenched in sweat, panting, snarling, moaning, all of them giving in to their inner beasts and loving every second.

"Harder!"

 

BANG.

 

Rogers' eyes lit up as a huge blue firework blossomed overhead, and he whipped one arm out to where Thor's hammer lay, pulling it over to him. The Thunderer's eyes widened at this, but he didn't let up the pace for a minute, not even when the Captain lay the handle of the hammer across his throat and gripped Thor's wrist, guiding it to take hold of the thing from both ends.

  
"Cap...ya sure 'bout this?" Logan's eyes locked onto Steve's, concern furrowing his brow even as it failed to stop his cock from fucking deep, deep into the Captain. "Goldilocks an' me, we don't wanna hurtcha..."

  
Steve nodded fiercely, eyes bright and feverish. "Yeah...I trust you. Both of you. And I want it...I really fucking do." He looked back at his lover, reaching up to stroke the demigod's stubbled jaw. "Choke me, Thor...take my breath away. For real."

 

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

 

Thor stopped pumping into his lover for a moment, chest heaving beneath Steve as he leaned forward. "If we are doing this, we are doing it safely," he said, in a firm tone that brooked no argument. "Steven, if you feel your world going dark, tap my wrist twice, and I shall slacken my hold. I'll not be the man who killed Captain America on the day of his birth."

"Yeah, I promise," Steve panted, taking one deep breath, then two, then three. Logan looked down and saw that Rogers' cock was harder and redder than he'd ever seen it. "I can take it...wanna take it...wanna give it to you..."

"Fuck, Glory Boy...you really are fuckin' hot fer this," he observed. Then he nodded to Thor, and started fucking again, slowly at first, relishing the feel of his cock against Thor's inside Steve.

Thor didn't move his hips. Instead, he took his hammer in both hands, one at the head and one at the base, and started to pull it downward over Steve's throat. Logan watched the man's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He heard Steve's breath become slightly louder, slightly more urgent. One hand went to his cock and started to pull at it, and Logan watched the pre start to ooze down the shaft. He licked his lips and redoubled his efforts, fucking into Steve's well-fucked, tightening hole as Thor slowly put more pressure on Mjolnir's handle, cutting off more and more of Rogers' air as Steve jerked off. The Thunderer neither thrust his hips nor made any effort to pull out, instead serving as a slick, steady plug for Logan to thrust against.

 

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

 

Logan saw Steve's face and body start to redden, the sweat pouring off him as veins started popping up on his neck. His eyes, though, spoke of a desperate, animal need for this, something primal, answering the ferocity of his warrior lovers. Licking his lips, Logan lunged forward and bit Steve's shoulder, his teeth sinking deep into the perfect flesh while he fucked, and Steve made a hoarse cry as pre splattered between the two men.

"Are you enjoying this, Captain?" Thor asked hoarsely, voice strained and teeth gritted with the effort, not only of maintaining the pressure of Mjolnir against Steve's throat, but of holding himself back from pushing forward too hard. "Having your breath stolen from you while Logan marks you? Being so completely at our mercy? Being our perfect fuck toy, to do with...or do away with...as we please?"

Steve's voice was coming in barely a whisper, his breaths wheezing and ragged, but a litany of "Yeah...yeah...fuck yeah!" still came from his lips as he tried to thrust his hips back and forth, to get more of Logan and Thor inside him as they choked and bit him.

The feral Canadian chuckled around his mouthful as he fucked harder into Steve, prompting weak cries that took even more of the Captain's precious oxygen away from him. "Yer ours, Rogers, ta fuck however we want, ain'tcha?" He felt Steve try to nod, though the hammer was impeding his neck movements now. "An' you know we'll return th' favor...you c'n fuck me, fuck Thor, whenever ya want, however ya want...just as soon as we get done fillin' ya full of our fuckin' jizz."

Another wheezing, weak cry came from the soldier's constricted throat, and Logan released his shoulder, licking his lips as he admired the hickey he'd planted. It would fade -- faster than most people, in fact -- but it looked good in the light of the fireworks.

 

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

 

"That...all ya got?" Steve croaked, his face and neck as red as his rampant cock. "...could do this all day."

 

BANG.

 

The gauntlet was thrown; how could the Wolverine do anything but accept? He roared as he thrust back into Rogers' ass, pounding away without mercy, driving him deeper and harder against Thor's chiseled body as Thor pulled the hammer tighter and tighter against his throat. There was no air getting into Steven's lungs at all, Logan was sure, but he was still giving Logan that defiant, smirking glare, still jerking away at his ruby-red, rock-hard dick. Thor was getting in on the act too, thrusting in perfect counterpoint to Wolverine, thrusting in as the feral pulled out, both of them driving into Steven with force that might have killed a lesser man, but only made the Captain's hand fly faster up and down his own shaft.

 

BANG.

BANG,

BANG.

 

Finally, after an eternity of fucking, choking, and quite a few more bite marks, the fireworks displays hit their grand finale, the lights above looking like nothing so much as a thunderstorm roaring overhead. Steve's blue-green eyes fluttered into the back of his head, and he gripped his cock tightly as he shot, and _shot_ , and _SHOT,_ painting Logan's chest and stomach as well as his own, the cum glittering in the light of the fireworks Wolverine's black chest hair. At the same time, Thor was roaring with an animal ferocity that rivalled Logan's own as he thrust balls-deep into the Captain and blasted his own load deep into Steve's perfect, All-American ass. Logan managed to hold out, but just for a little longer, before he too lost his head and rushed headlong, howling, into orgasm, cumming so deep inside Steve he didn't think his cum would ever come out again.

They slumped together in a heap of naked, sweaty flesh and fur after that, Thor letting Mjolnir drop to the side as the fireworks died down. Logan watched closely as Steve gasped and panted for breath...and laughed. After a long moment, he and Thor joined him.

"That...was AMAZING," Steve panted out between peals of laughter. "Best.." he coughed, "...best birthday ever!"

Logan grinned, feeling his whole body sag with relief. "Happy 4th, Glory Boy," he said, smirking as he ruffled Steve's hair while Thor nuzzled him from behind.

"And here is to many, many more," the Asgardian rumbled, before taking Mjolnir up in his hand and raising it to the now-darkened sky. Clouds rolled in, obscuring the smoke from the fireworks in seconds as lightning streaked through the air and a warm, torrential rain poured down, like a soothing shower for the entire city...but specifically, for the three sweaty, fucked-out Avengers reclining on the roof as they let the summer rain wash over their naked bodies.

Logan looked at the two blond men, watching them luxuriate in the rain as the cum and sweat was washed clean, and he felt his dick twitch as thunder rumbled above them.

 

BOOM.

 

"Wanna go again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) 4th to those who celebrate!
> 
> I worked all day trying to come up with a good one for this. As it turns out, I am an even kinkier perv than I thought.
> 
> Note that this is fantasy involving superheroes. If you practice anything like autoerotic asphyxiation (or something similarly risky) in real life, remember to always be safe.


	10. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 - Morning sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance to any native Russian-speakers who may be reading this for the gratuitous, probably horrible Cyrillic. I wanted there to be some authenticity in the way Colossus spoke, but I speak approximately zero Russian myself, so to Google Translate it was.

The sun was rising, and Logan was naked again, thick cock gripped in his hand as it swelled and pulsed. This time, though, it wasn't just for pleasure.

Wolverine's deep, dark gaze was fixed firmly on Piotr Rasputin, who was sitting opposite him in the clearing, sky-blue eyes focused intently on the sketchpad in front of him. The Russian's black brows were creased, furrowed in concentration as he looked from the sketchpad to Logan and back again, trying to faithfully recreate every detail of the scene laid out for him.

Peter had spent hours setting up the scene. Logan sat with his back against one of the oldest oaks on the Xavier Institute grounds, the rising sun behind them hitting him like a spotlight, the remnants of a campfire still smoldering in front of him as he masturbated. His face wore a smirking, shameless expression, one part defiant challenge, one part invitation. There was a pornographic quality to the drawing, but also a wildness, a freedom, that Piotr was insistent on trying to capture.

"Pete?"

Trying...but not succeeding.

"PETE!"

The bark of his name snapped Colossus out of his trance and he looked up.

"What?"

Logan was leaning forward, brow creased, face intent. He looked concerned about something. "Ya need ta try an' relax, big guy," he said.

"What?" Peter blinked quizzically. "But I am fine..."

Logan lifted his chin. "That ain't what'cher scent's tellin' me. Not t'mention yer body."

"Logan, I do not..." Piotr looked down. "Oh." He'd turned to steel in his frustration, the pastel in his hand cracked almost in half in his inhumanly strong grip. "Maybe it is break time," he conceded, willing himself back to flesh-and-blood.

Logan got up and stretched with a growl of relief. Watching the naked, furry, compact, hard body, Peter found his breath quickening. His jeans -- the only thing he'd chosen to wear this morning -- were uncomfortably tight, and he squirmed, trying not to make it too obvious.

But to someone like Logan, his scent was like a neon sign. "Gettin' all worked up, Petey?" he asked, his back to the Russian...coincidentally presenting his hairy, beefy, perfect backside for Piotr's perusal.

Piotr didn't respond right away; he found himself torn between wanting to make a whole series of paintings of Logan in full lurid color, each more explicit and provocative than the last, and being deeply, bitterly frustrated at his inability to make even one satisfatory sketch.

His silence didn't go unnoticed. "Earth t' Tin Man," Logan said, waving his hand in front of Colossus' face. Peter blinked, and came back to himself, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry," he said. "I wanted to make your sketch good, as good as the real thing...but it is not working. It does not feel...right."

Logan looked at the paper, at the unfinished sketch Piotr had been drawing of him. "I don't get it," he said at last. "It looks fine t'me."

" _You_ do not look 'fine'," Peter said simply. "When I look at you, here, under the tree in the sunlight, I feel...ума от похоти," he lapsed into his native Russian, gestured lamely. "You make me want to be wild, to do things..." His face flushed a deep red. "But I cannot get it onto the paper. The lines...they don't work right."

Logan grinned. "Steel bod, silver tongue. Ya sweet-talker." He shoved playfully at Colossus' arm, and Colossus blushed even brighter. "Well...I got somethin' that might help." Before Piotr could object, Logan was kneeling between his legs, pulling open his jeans and shucking them down his thighs. What was going to be a protest turned into a groan of relief as his big, thick cock swung free of its confines, hitting Logan in the face.

"Прости," Piotr apologized quickly. "Are you all right?" Logan chuckled as he seized the colossal cock in his hand.

"Careful what'cher packin' in there, Russkie," he said affectionately, then gave the shaft of Piotr's dick a long, slow lick. The Russian shuddered, and a long stream of precum started weeping from the head. Logan was on it in an instant, licking it up before taking Colossus into his mouth, down his throat, more and more of it disappearing into him as he groaned his appreciation. Piotr gazed in amazement, then his eyes slid closed of their own volition as the Canadian's lips and tongue worked their magic, and his big hand went to Logan's black hair and ran through it as he let out  deep groan of bliss.

He didn't know exactly when his jeans had come off, but suddenly, there he was, lying naked on his back on the grass, the morning sun warming him as Logan's mouth worked him over. Rough, callused fingers made their way across his chest to play with his nipples, and Piotr's back arched involuntarily as he gasped, his hips thrusting, driving his cock even deeper down Logan's throat. To Peter's surprised relief, the feral took it without so much as a cough.

At length, Logan pulled himself up off Peter's cock, licking his lips as he grinned. He crawled up Peter's body, the difference between their sizes never more apparent to the Russian than it was at that moment. Logan had always been small, but he never gave the impression that he was weak; on the contrary, his swagger and attitude always made him seem at least a foot taller.

Now, though?

Now Logan was still full of swagger and confidence, but Piotr was aware of how tight and compact, how light he was...even with an adamantium skeleton weighing him down, Colossus could carry Wolverine in one hand even in his flesh-and-blood form. With the head of his cock brushing against Wolverine's ass, the Canadian was able to lick and suck at his nipples without even having to bend down.

"Fuck yeah...yer big all over, Petey," he growled as he came up, that smirk on his lips again, making Piotr shudder with desire. "Been cravin' this fer a while, gettin' my hole stretched by a king-sizer like yers." He licked and kissed a trail along Colossus' chest, from one nipple to the other and back again, taking special care to lick the cleft between the big man's pecs, which made Piotr far hotter than it should have. It wasn't a particularly warm morning, but Piotr was sweating all the same.

"да, please, yes, Logan, да," he was almost babbling his assent now, nodding vigorously. "I want...I _need_...to be inside you."

"All ya hadda do was ask, stud," Logan said, and he leaned back and sat squarely on Piotr's spit-slickened cock, letting out a low, guttural growl as more and more of it disappeared inside him, until his ass ground against the bigger man's balls and Colossus groaned helplessly. He was no virgin, but Logan had years, maybe even decades, of experience in man-sex on him, and it was all Piotr could do not to cum, not to end this before it had well and truly begun.

Once he was completely impaled on Colossus' cock, took Peter's face in both of his hands and bent him forward for a kiss. It was animalistic, aggressive, and Piotr melted into it even as his hips bucked upward reflexively, his big hands roaming all over Logan's small, furry, hard body.

Finally, Logan broke the kiss and looked the Russian square in the eye, his smirk gone, replaced by an expression of desperate, feral need. "Fuck me, big guy. Fuck me now...fast, an' deep, an' **hard**."

All Colossus could do was nod. "да."

Before long, the woods were filled with carnal noise; Peter's desperate, blissful cries, Logan's guttural growls and roars of ecstasy, the wet slickness of cock sliding in and out of ass, the staccato slap of skin on skin, panting, kissing, grunting, moaning, all of it getting louder and faster as both men careened towards the edge of the precipice, arms and legs locked around each other as if for dear life. Peter couldn't look away from the sight of Logan riding his cock like a champion, and Logan was drinking in the sight of Peter's body as he revelled in the sensations of being fucked so royally by someone so much bigger than he.

It seemed to go on forever, and not nearly long enough, before Pete'rs eyes snapped wide open as his balls began to churn.

"Logan...unngh...Блядь! I am...I will...gaah!"

"Do it, Petey! Shoot'cher seed deep inside me! I'm right behind ya! Cum fer me, stud!"

That was all Piotr needed. His hips lurched upwards one last time as his cock swelled, and throbbed, and shot its load, filling Logan in the first spurt, then overflowing back onto Peter's hips, running down the sides of his body as his balls drained themselves. It was more cum than he'd ever shot in his life, and just when he thought he was finished, Logan threw back his head and let out a primal, animalistic ROAR of completion as his own thick cock emptied itself onto Peter's chest, hitting his throat, his chin...some of it even landed inside his mouth, and he swallowed it like ambrosia, like a man dying of thirst swallows water.

They collapsed into each other's arms, panting and gasping for breath together, Logan landing squarely in the mess of cum he'd shot over Peter's chest and managing not to give a single fuck.

"Черт..." Piotr managed, when he was able to speak again. "That was...that was _good._ "  


The smaller man managed a gruff chuckle. "Damn straight. Fuck...that was just what I needed, big guy. " He rose a little, to look Peter in the eye. "An' how 'bout you? Problem with yer drawing all cleared up?"

Peter thought for a moment...as much as he was capable of. "I...think so? Maybe? I will have to try to be sure." He flopped back down on the grass. "Later, though. When I can move again."

"Later," Logan repeated, then laughed again as he rested his head on the sweat- and cum-slick chest. "Yeah. Later works fer me."

 

~*~

 

** One Week Later **

 

"How come I'm blindfolded?" Logan grumbled as Piotr led him upstairs.  


"Because this is a surprise," Peter responded unapologetically. "And because I know if you trip and fall back down, you will not break anything but your pride."

"Har har," Wolverine growled, his tone rich with sarcasm. "Seriously, what's goin' on?"

The Russian didn't respond for a while, instead leading Wolverine into his room and locking the door behind them. "Okay," he said, sounding eager, almost childlike. "You can look now." Logan grumbled as he pulled off the blindfold...but the growls died in his throat as he took in the sight before him. 

There he was...on not one, but three different easels, with the original sketches lying beside them. The whole room smelled like fresh paint, even with the window open, but Logan barely noticed.

The first picture was a full painting from the sketch Peter had first been trying to do; Logan lying back against the tree, cock in hand, rays of sunlight shining down and illuminating him. It was sensual, but peaceful, almost pastoral, but with an undercurrent of anticipation, thanks to the lovingly rendered expression of lust and mischief on Logan's face.

The second was more explicit; a picture of Logan looking at the artist triumphantly as a giant cock disappeared into his mouth. His tongue was sticking out, seeming to prepare the way as the rest of his mouth followed, and a clear fluid was sliding down the shaft, looking so real it made the real Logan's mouth water.

Finally, there was Logan, on his knees, straddling the hips of a much larger man, the same big cock disappearing into his ass as it had disappeared into his mouth. His head was thrown back in primal pleasure, his cock jutting outwards from his body, thick and hard and leaking. Every hair on his body was captured, felt real enough to touch, and the scene looked wild, uninhibited, like the Greek god Pan come to life.

Logan took the pictures in and found himself grinning stupidly. "Shit...alla this is what'cha saw that day?"

"да," Piotr nodded. "It was...you are...incredible. I tried to capture it all the way I saw it." He blushed. "I still do not think they are as good as the real thing, but...I tried my best." 

Logan turned and gave the big Russian a long, tight hug. "Ya did great," he said into Colossus' chest. "Best pictures o'me there's ever been."

"I had inspiration," Peter responded, his arms going around the smaller man. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Tin Man."


	11. Auf Jeden Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11 - Greedy sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Auf Jeden Fall" is a German term meaning "In every case". It's used as a colloquialism, much like "Totally!" or "For sure!" in the States...or so the Interwebs tell me. German-speakers, if I get this wrong, correct away.

_"Auf jeden fall!"_

Those three words in German were music to Logan's ears, every time he heard them come from Kurt Wagner's mouth.

"Hey, Elf, wanna spar in th'woods after lunch? Winner take all?"

_"Auf jeden fall!"_

And the winner WOULD take all...though Logan wasn't sure exactly who that was. Technically, he'd won the match, but the way Kurt purred when Logan grabbed his cock through his costume made him think it might have been exactly what the elf wanted.

Logan relished the sight of Kurt's pants sliding down over his taught acrobat's ass, his tail lifting into the air as he presented himself with a cocky glint in those sexy golden eyes.

"Aww...fuck yeah...Elf...so fuckin' hot an' tight..."

Logan had been around the block a few dozen times, and considered himself to be fairly kinky...but after he'd started sleeping around with his teammates, he'd learned that he was far from the only one. For someone as kind, friendly, and good-natured as he was, when it came to sex, Kurt might just be Logan's match in the perversion department. The way ge moaned when Logan grabbed a fistful of that indigo hair would stick in his mind forever, and hearing his cock slap against his belly from the forct of Logan's thrusts made the feral Canadian even hungrier.

Just fucking Kurt wasn't going to be enough. Not by a long shot.

"Kurt...unnf...give it to me...Gimme that tail...shove it in me...fuck me with that fuckin' spade..."

Kurt's laugh turned into a gasp as Logan reached around and pinched his nipples roughly.

 _"Auf..._ unnnh!. _..Auf jeden fall!"_

And Logan shuddered as he felt the tail snake along his naked thigh, over his buttocks, and down into the crack between his cheeks. Its pointed tip touched his hole, and he almost came right then and there... _would_ have come, except that Kurt, with amazing flexibility, reached around behind him and grabbed the base of Logan's cock and balls in a vise-grip, his three-fingered fist acting like a cockring.

" _Nein,_ Logan...not yet. I want you to feel it, _mein geil freund*_...I want this to last."

Logan grunted, and trembled, his body covered with a sheen of sweat. Kurt repositioned himself, without taking his ass off Logan's cock -- the feeling of Kurt's insides twisting around it nearly made Logan black out -- so that he was lying on his back, legs spread, completely open for his friend.

Logan grunted as he struggled not to cum. "God-damn, Elf...ya know ya look like a fuckin' whore when ya do that...you **know** what it does ta me..."

Kurt's tongue ran over his fangs as he met Logan's gaze. Then he released Logan's cock, sliding forward, impaling himself to the hilt on it. The fur on Logan's balls ground into the light covering of blue peach fuzz on Kurt's body, and Logan felt his eyes roll back in his head.

_"Auf jeden fall."_

Just like that, Logan was gone. Rutting primally into his best friend's ass, gripping him with a force that wold bruise anyone who wasn't already naturally blue-skinned, yanking Kurt's hair to hear more of those delicious cries. It would have looked brutal, even cruel, to someone seeing them from afar.

But all it took was one look into Kurt's eyes, to see the want, the hunger, the _challenge_ in them, and Logan knew: This was exactly what he wanted, just as badly as Logan did.

Their howls of animalistic pleasure continued well into the evening.

~*~

The moonrise found them naked by Breakstone Lake, a few hundred yards away from the Institute. They had chased each other through the woods, naked, running around or jumping from treetop to treetop like schoolboys. What they did when they caught one another, however, was anything but childish.

Kurt dragged a thick finger along the crack of Logan's ass, swiping some of his own semen from the reddened pucker. Presenting it to the feral's lips, he let out a low moan as Logan sucked it clean, his dark eyes locked on Kurt.

"'S funny," the Canadian said after swallowing. "Ya usually go invisible in th'dark, but t'night, I c'n see you clear as daylight."

Kurt chuckled. "I don't think the camouflage trick works very well when I'm all shiny with sweat and seed."

Logan reached up and caressed Kurt's face, in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. "Ya glisten when yer wet. It's kinda...beautiful."

"Now you're just trying to make me blush."

"Or I'm tryin' ta make you hard again."

In response to that, Kurt straddled Logan's chest, presenting his blue-black erection to his feral friend.

Logan stared in amazement. "Shit...thought _I_ was the one with th' healin' factor. Ya wanna go again?"

Kurt's smile gleamed in the moonlight.

_"Auf jeden fall."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "mein geil freund" = "my sexy/horny friend" (or "brother," depending on whom you ask)


	12. Cut Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12 - Left unsatisfied

The newly-christened "Avengers Mansion" was a nice enough place, Logan decided, but it felt a little too much like Stark was trying to rip off Professor X.

_What's next, Shellhead? Avengers Academy? The Mighty A-Holes?_

The feral shook his head. Rogers and Widow would stop it before it got too far. At least some folks on the team had a considerate bone in their body. He was just in the middle of checking out the gym -- it was no Danger Room, for sure, but it'd do okay for this bunch -- when a whistle from behind made him turn around.

The man's whistle was replaced by the whistle of a blunt-tipped arrow. Logan caught it out of the air and glowered at the man who'd fired it.

"Barton."

Hawkeye smirked, giving his sometimes-teammate a jaunty wave. "Hey there, Peach-fuzz."

Logan rolled his eyes. He was just as guilty of giving people nicknames, but he liked to think he had better taste in them. "Coulda led with that, 'stead o'the arrow."

"Aww," Clint pouted, "but then I couldn't get to see the look on your face when this happened!"

He winked, and the arrow in Logan's hand exploded into ropes, spinning around his wrist as the force blew him back against one of the nearby exercise machines. A second shot at his ther wrist, and Logan was well and truly tied to the machine, straddling the bench. He tried to pull his hands free,  but the machine's handlebars were locked in place, and this particular contraption was designed to give Thor a workout. Logan was strong, but he couldn't budge the bars an inch. He snarled.

"Seriously, Cupid?"

Clint sauntered up to him unapologetically, and Logan sniffed the air.

:"Aw, you gotta be kiddin' me. First Webs, now you..why the fuck does everyone think tyin' me up's a good way ta get laid?!"

Unlike Parker, who'd turned apologetic the minute Logan expressed displeasure with the situation, Clint simply grinned as he groped Logan's crotch through his jeans.

"You gonna say no?"

Wolverine growled in annoyance, but his hips lurched upwards into the archer's groping palm, and Clint chuckled in triumph. "Didn't think so."

His hands trailed along Logan's body, and the feral growled again. "Shut the fuck up an' whip it out, Barton, before someone walks in on us."

Clint's hands were already at the waistband of his jeans. "You'd probably invite 'em to join in."

With one swift, smooth motion, he skinned Logan's jeans completely off his stocky, hairy legs, leaving him in only his tanktop and his boots. As soon as it was exposed to the air, the feral's cock began to thicken and swell, his chest heaving as his instincts started to take over. Clint bent down and kissed the head of it as he took off his own pants, straddling Logan with his back to him, flexing his ass in front of the feral's face.

Logan moaned despite himself. On the one hand, he was starting to hate being so predictably horny all the time. But on the other...

"Fuck, Hawk, callin' me a peach when yer ass looks so goddamn delicious."

Clint smirked over his shoulder at him, grinning as he squeezed Logan's black-furred balls in his hands. "Maybe I'm trying to give you ideas. Or maybe I just don't want you to go in dry."

Logan grunted. "Ain't gonna be a problem, much as I'm leakin'."

"Shut up and eat me the fuck out, Canuck."

And just like that, Clint's ass was smothering him. Logan couldn't breathe anything but clean, if sweaty, male musk. For his enhanced senses though, it was ambrosia. He rimmed Clint enthusiastically, only getting more so when he gelt the archer go down on him. Hawkeye was moaning appreciatively as well, drinking down all of Logan's copious precum like it was the headiest hard liquor.

Just when Logan started to feel himself getting lightheaded -- healing factor or no, he still needed to breathe, and nice as it was, Clint's ass was no substitute for oxygen -- the archer lifted off of his tongue and crawled down his body sensually. Wearing only the tight black-and-purple shirt and armbands of his uniform, Clint made a devastatingly sexy sight even from behind.

"Fuuuck...all you Avengers oughta dress like that all the time..."

Clint tossed him a grin over his shoulder. "Maybe if you joined the team full-time, we might. Thor sure as hell would...he forgets to wear all his clothes half the time anyway."

The thought of the beefy, sexy Asgardian god, idly going about his day half-naked, made Logan let out a noise that was half-growl, half-purr, and Clint's grin turned fiendish as he looked down at the feral's raging erection.

"You like that, don'tcha? Me telling you dirty secrets about my teammates?"

"Like 'em better if you told 'em while you sat on my goddamn dick, Arrowhead."

The sandy-haired marksman tossed him another saucy grin. "With an offer like that..."

Then he turned to face Logan, positioned himself, and sank down onto Logan's cock with an ease that came from years of practice. "Fuuuuuck..."

Logan's moan of pleasure was just as intense as Clint's. "Aahhhhh...damn, you're so fuckin' hot and tight inside..."

"Tightest ass on the team," Clint tossed back as he started to undulate, flexing his ass up and down Logan's thick shaft. Logan wished his hands were free. He could seize those sexy globes, trap Clint in his arms, and _use_ the smug, cocky archer the way he so badly wanted to. Instead, he settled for giving the Avenger a hungry look.

"Keep talkin', Barton. Tell me more about how fuckin' slutty you an' your teammates get around each other."

Clint moaned aloud, and the words started to flow as his ass devoured Logan's cock, again and again. He told of Thor and Cap's bachelor party the night before their wedding, where the two of them had gone both ways with every guy on the team. He mentioned T'Challa, and how the sensual Wakandan King liked to seduce his partners with a dance and a striptease before getting to the business. He talked about Wonder Man and his ionic body, and how it felt getting fucked by someone who could break even Thor in two. He even revealed that he'd gotten Bruce angry before a fuck once, and how it felt to feel him swell and start to turn into the Hulk inside him.

"Tony came in too soon, though, and got Bruce off of me before he could finish," he said regretfully. An upward thrust of Logan's dragged across his prostate, and his disappointment turned into ecstasy as he threw his head back. "Oh, FUUUUUUUCK!"

Clint's fist had been flying over his cock the whole time he'd been talking, and Logan had split his focus between listening to Clint's stories and giving him the fuck of his life. That last jab at his g-spot had been enough, and his whole body convulsed as he shot his load all over Logan's face and tank top. Logan lapped it up as he kept fucking, his hips ramming into Clint's slackening body...he was getting close too...

The lights went red and a klaxon started to blare in their ears, causing Logan to scream in pain.

Steve appeared at the door. "Hawkeye, we've got an emergency! The Grim Reaper's got Wonder Man in Central Park; he's siphoning off his energy for some kind of upgrade to his scythe!" To his credit, Captain America didn't even seem fazed that he was walking in on his teammate riding the self-proclaimed sluttiest X-Man.

By contrast, Logan groaned in disappointment as Clint pulled off him, suddenly all business. "One minute to change, boss, and I'll be in the Quinjet."

Steve nodded, and the two of them headed for the door. Logan struggled against his bonds in frustration. "HEY! What about me, fuckers?"

Clint waved him off. "Don't worry about it, Fuzzy, we got this!" Then he dashed out the door, bottomless, headed straight for the locker room.

Steve looked back at him appraisingly. "Actually, I think you'll do us more good right where you are." His lips curved into a smirk. "When we get Simon back, it'll be good for the team to have someone to unwind with."

Logan stared at the Avengers' Golden Boy in frank disbelief. "You're shittin' me..."

Steve held up a single finger. "One hour, tops. Then you'll get to go right back to what you were doing with Hawkeye, just with the entire team."

Logan cursed. Now his erection would _never_ go down. Steve tossed him a jaunty, sarcastic salute.

"Stay at attention, soldier. See you soon."


	13. Lonely But Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13 - Strangers, part 1 of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy upcoming Halloween!
> 
> ...Okay, honestly this story has next to nothing to do with Halloween itself. So here, have part 1 of a random post-apocalyptic trilogy guest-starring a character from a francise I barely know anything about. :p

"So, where'd this guy say to meet again?" Logan asked, wiping his forehead with a muscular, bare arm. It was a hot day for October...too hot for Logan to be bothered with clothes other than his well-worn hiking boots. Everything he owned -- everything he cared to carry with him, anyway -- was in the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Not like anyone but Chris was there -- or anywhere -- to see him naked anyway. 

They were at the city limits, or so the sign, NOW ENTERING RACCOON CITY, told them.

Raccoon City itself was dead silent, just like Minneapolis, St. Louis, Cheyenne, Las Vegas, San Francisco, and LA had been. Logan didn't know what he'd expected the end of the world to look like -- indeed, he'd never figured on living long enough to see it -- but it wasn't this.

He didn't know what had happened -- why almost everyone else on Earth had just evaporated. Friends, enemies, acquaintances, fuckbuddies -- everyone Logan had ever known, loved, hated, and lusted after was just gone in the blink of an eye.

That had been five years ago.

The strange thing was, in those five years, nothing had happened to the world itself. The cities still glowed brightly at night and worked during the day. Faucets and toilets still worked. Restaurants and bakeries all over were still stocked with fresh food, nothing went bad. Power plants still worked, city power grids were unaffected by either the disappearance of all their workers or the passage of time spent unsupervised. There had been no meltdowns, no explosions, no blackouts. TV and radio stations still broadcast shows on a regular schedule -- no new programming, obviously, but reruns of everything that had ever aired were available, provided you knew what channel to look on. The Internet still worked -- not that it did much, since no one ever got online anymore. Logan's cell phone still got crystal-clear reception, even though there was no one left to call. Even light bulbs didn't burn out anymore. All technological entropy had come to a full and complete stop, along with humanity.

The end of the world had come, and it was like the world didn't notice.

"The e-mail said to go to D.A;'s Place," Chris said, answering his earlier question. "We'll head for it once we get into the city."

There were pockets of survivors here and there -- people who hadn't disappeared -- but no one who could ever explain anything that had happened, or why they had lived while everyone around them had vanished. Chris Redfield was one of those survivors, an ex-cop with more than a little experience with weirdness himself -- though nothing on this scale -- and that was all Logan knew about him.

"Raccoon City, huh?" Logan said, looking up at the sign. "Didn't you say somethin' about bein' from here?"

"It's where I was a cop," Chris said, _starting_ down the highway purposefully. "Before I joined the BSAA." He looked Logan up and down. "You gonna meet our contact like that?"

"LIke what?"

Chris gestured to his unclad state. "I mean, I don't really care..." he blushed, "I kinda like it, actually...but we don't know who we're meeting. First impressions and stuff, you know."

"Ya think I should grab somethin' off a rack in town?" the mutant chuckled sardonically. "Ya think I'm an Armani, St. Laurent, Visvim kinda guy?"

"How about Jeans and a t-shirt from Target?" Chris retorted. "Or, I dunno, anything?"

Logan shrugged. "Maybe. Meantime, let's find a hotel or somethin' ta crash in till tomorrow. We been walkin' all day, an' I need ta shower somethin' fierce." He eyed Chris' body appreciatively, the special agent clad in his tight standard-issue BSAA shirt and cargo pants that, strangely, didn't do much to conceal either his bulge or the shape of his ass.

Chris' blush deepened.

~*~

They'd gotten breaking into hotel rooms down to a science by now -- not that it was hard at this point. Simply walk behind the desk, pick up a keycard, and find the floor and the door. Maybe hit up the kitchen for some room-service food, if they didn't feel like going out to pick up dinner. The do-it-yourself life that had replaced what came before was much more convenient, Logan had to admit.

_Doesn't mean I wouldn't trade it in a fuckin' heartbeat t'see Kurt again...or M'iko, or Petey, or Hank, Jeannie, Rems, 'Ro, Steve, Herc, Thor...hell, I'd even be happy to see Slim's one-eyed face again._

Logan, once infamous as the X-Men's token loner, felt the loneliness creep up on him as he looked out the window at the glowing, empty city, listening to Redfield take his shower. Chris was a decent guy, the same kind of true-blue hero as Steve or Scott -- that was why he'd volunteered to travel with Logan, to find out what had happened to everyone -- but he just didn't know him that well. It wasn't the same as having his team -- his friends, his family -- around with him. But it was all he had.

Chris came out in his towel. "All yours," he said. "I'm gonna find the laundry room and finish cleaning up." He indicated his uniform, sweaty and musky with the wear and tear of travel. Logan found himself smiling slightly as he headed for the shower -- even now, when there was no one around to see him but Logan, the cop still had a sense of modesty about himself.

He climbed into the shower and turned the water on, setting it to the cool "summertime waterfall in the Canadian Rockies" setting he liked. While before he would have used the opportunity to stroke one out, Logan felt no drive or inclination to do so now. Even though now he could practically jack off whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, consequence-free, his once-legendary libido had just...stopped.

Even flirting with Chris was more out of habit than anything. Logan knew Redfield wanted him, liked seeing him naked. He also knew Chris was too nice to make the first move.

All Logan had to do was hint that he wanted him, and the soldier would be on him at speeds that'd put Jean-Paul to shame. He knew it.

So why didn't he?

Even with a hunk like Chris around, Logan simply didn't get aroused anymore. Too many of his old fuckbuddies drifted through his imagination whenever he tried. The feral was no stranger to ghosts, but what were you supposed to do when everyone you'd ever known had become one?

He breathed a deep sigh, with far more shudder in it than he liked, and kept staring morosely at the tiles in front of him, letting the hot spray hit him without really feeling it.

~*~

He didn't know how long he'd stood there when he felt a hand on his back. "Logan?"

Looking up, he saw Chris standing before him, still naked, blue eyes deep with concern.

Chris helped Logan out of the shower and dried him off, despite his half-hearted protests that he could do it himself.

"I get it, you know." Chris said finally, when the two were in bed together. Neither of them had said anything, just crawled under the covers and spooned together, Chris holding the smaller, older man in his arms from behind. "I think about them all the time. My sister, my team, the rest of the BSAA. I wonder if they're really dead, or if they were just taken somewhere with everyone else. I call their numbers on my cell from time to time, just to listen to their voicemail."

"I've lost buddies before," Logan said. "When ya been around as long as I have, lived the life I have, it comes with the territory. But this is diff'rent. This is..."

"Everyone." Chris finished for him, and Logan nodded. "And it makes you wonder: why me?"

"I used t'work at a school," Logan said, ignoring Chris's look of surprise. He knew he didn't seem like the teacher type. "A lotta good kids there, smart, tough, brave. Kids who deserved t'live their lives, a lot more than me."

"...I'm sorry," Chris said finally, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know." His arms tightened around Logan some more.

Logan wanted to shake him off, to tell him he didn't want his pity. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he just held on to Chris' arms and let himself take comfort in the presence of another human being, even a man he barely knew.

It was better than nothing.

~TO BE CONTINUED~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a long time to figure out what I was going to do with. 'Strangers' is such a broad concept to play with with a character like my version of Logan.
> 
> I toyed with the idea of Logan fucking the Winchester boys, losing his memory, ending up in another world...but this idea jumped into my head and didn't let go. And it still won't.
> 
> Parts two and three of this story will be new chapters in a separate, larger fic. I'm betting this breaks all of the rules, but this was supposed to be a thirty-day challenge and it's been going on for nearly four years now, so...*shrugs*
> 
> If you've stuck it out this long, I commend you. And thanks!


End file.
